A Study in Lunacy
by herpyderpyhojo
Summary: Set in the background of Sherlock's cases. Sebastian Moran is beginning to have doubts about how he feels towards his boss, watching him gradually become more obsessed with Sherlock Holmes. First chapter complete, with much more to come.
1. Wake up Call

"Rise and shine, Seb!" A familiar voice rang in my ears, coaxing me awake. I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was.

"Boss, with all due respect, what the hell are you doing in my bedroom? Again?" Yeah, this wasn't the first time he'd broken into my flat. Trust me, it's not something you really ever get used to, especially at 6 in the bloody morning.

My name is Sebastian Moran. There's not all that much to tell, other than the fact that I'm a sniper, and a rather good one at that. I work for the consulting criminal, Jim Moriarty, who, in all honesty, I still have my doubts about. Nevertheless, the pay is good, and it's not like he treats me badly or anything. He's just not exactly stable. This particular morning, he was almost unnervingly excited about something.

"Get up, Seb, get up!" Suddenly the covers had been flung from my bed, and I groggily sat up, running a hand through my slightly greasy hair.

"What's the hurry? I thought I had a day off today." My boss looked surprised for a moment, then he gave a childish giggle.

"I must've forgotten about that. Anyway, take a look at this." The smaller man had swivelled round so he was sitting on the bed, tapping away at my laptop. He'd figured out the password, even though I'd changed it numerous times. After a moment's tapping, he turned it around so I could see the screen. I squinted, the screen a bit too bright for my tired eyes. "Well?" He demanded.

"The...science of deduction." I read out the title of this website. Jim's child-like expression didn't change. I read on, sighing a little. "...'Kay, so, this Sherlock guy. He's some sort of genius." Jim nodded vigorously, dark eyes shining.

"Exactly!"

"And I care because?"

"You're going to help me bring him down." Of course. I should've seen that coming.

"Okay, but why?" Jim bounced off my bed, and began pacing the room like someone who'd had too much caffeine (trust me, I've been there).

"Don't you see, Sebby? I finally have someone who's like me! A rival! Not one of those boring ones. A real, proper, interesting rival! It's like we were made for eachother, Seb!" I rolled my eyes when he wasn't looking. No, I didn't see, but that's Jim. His mind works in a completely different way to how mine or yours works. While I was glad he'd found someone that could distract him from that boredom that put him in the most venomous of moods, I couldn't help but wonder if this whole thing would end up going pear-shaped. I'd just have to wait and see. Before long, Jim had scampered off, announcing that he had some business to attend to, and that he'd call me later. So, he had, in fact, woken me up for no damn reason. Wonderful.

It wasn't until 11pm that I heard the familiar sound of AC/DC's 'Back in Black' playing from my pocket.

"Yeah?"

"Seb, it's me."

"...I do have caller ID, Jim, I know."

"Guess what."

"What?"

"I said guess."

"Ugh…Jim, just tell me."

"Ooh, looks like some-one got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"No, you woke me up."

"Whatever. Do you give up?"

"Oh for the love of- Yes, Jim, I give up, now tell me."

"I've just sponsored Jeff Hope."

"Is that name supposed to mean something?"

"Yes. He's going to kill people for me. No connections, no, just random people off the street. Here's the best bit- for every life he takes, I'm going to send money to his kids." Right, there were many questions I could have asked at this point, but I decided against it. He'd ignore me anyway.

"And why are you doing this?" I heard a long, irritated groan on the other end of the phone.

"Seb, Seb. Do try to keep up. I'm doing this to interest Sherlock. To play with him, make him…" he paused, as if he word had slipped off the end of his tongue, "dance." I asked if I'd be needed at any point during this, but he said no. It seemed like I'd be in the dark until he felt like bragging to me again. Jim was a funny one. One moment he was strangely happy, the next he was in a searing rage, and would scream abuse at the nearest person. There was no in between, and I'd been subject to both. When he was happy like this, with a client, and now a potential rival that he would not shut up about, he wouldn't talk to me for days, sometimes weeks on end unless he needed me. Sometimes, I felt as if he appreciated me, that he really did need me. A nice kind of feeling, I'll admit. Then some days, it was like I was completely replaceable. Well, the truth was, I was almost definitely considered replaceable to Jim. I wasn't his only sniper, just his main one. I was just an employee, and if I failed him or got killed in action, he could easily get a new one. Jim's one of those odd people who seem incapable of sentiment, considering it a weakness. I suppose it is, really. I wouldn't say I'm sentimental towards Jim, far from it. I just owe him for hiring me, that's all. I just want to be good at what I do, and I am. I don't need Jim to tell me that. It's… It's hard to find a word to describe our relationship. Was it really just business? I dunno. Probably.

It was a good few months before Jim felt the need to contact me again. Well, I say contact. What I mean is that he turned up on my doorstep, grinning and looking like a dog that had been given a treat. I leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow.

"Why bother ringing the doorbell? You could just break in like you usually do." Jim smirked, shrugging as he pushed past me. Since when had I become such a pushover? I followed him inside, eyeing him curiously. There was a spring in his steps, and his eyes shone a little brighter. "Okay, so you don't talk to me for months, then you turn up at my house looking like an excited puppy. C'mon, spill." Jim spun around on his heel to face me, his grin growing wider.

"Jeff's dead!" I blinked a few times. How was this a good thing? I gave him a questioning look, pressing him to elaborate. "Sherlock! He solved the case, just like I knew he would. And I'll bet Jeff told him about me. It was another man that killed Jeff. An ex-army doctor, I believe… Not important now. Oh, this is such fun! Just have to wait for another client, then we can play again." Jim clapped his hands, wringing them together as he grinned at me, evidently waiting for me to share in his excitement. I could only smile dryly, and nod. "I'll let you know when I need yoooou!" He called, as he practically skipped out of my flat. I slowly closed the door behind him, before grabbing a beer from the fridge and sinking into my chair. While I was glad Jim was happy, and not screaming fit to wake the dead, I couldn't help but wonder… Would this Sherlock bloke keep Jim happy? Or would he make him more self destructive than ever? Jim had never been out of contact for so long before. I already knew he wasn't stable at all. Hold on, I thought. Am I...worrying about him? No, no, that's not it. I'm just concerned for my employer's well-being, that's all it is. Must be. 


	2. Puppet on Strings

It's a bit hypocritical, really, how I call Jim unstable. I mean, sure, he's messed up, that much is obvious, but am I really that different? After all, the time I feel most comfortable in my own skin is when I have a gun in my hand. When you look at it that way, I suppose I'm a bit messed up too. Not that it bothers me. Just means I can get the job done quicker; shooting a moving target isn't something you can procrastinate.

On this occasion, my target went by the name of Shan. According to the boss, she was involved with a group of smugglers known as 'Black Lotus'. That wasn't why Jim had sent me after her, he didn't care about the smuggling; in fact, he'd helped them with it. He didn't care that they'd killed people. They'd mistaken Sherlock's seemingly unimportant flat-mate for him, and their little plan had been turned upside down. This had excited Jim, almost causing him to jump with joy over this little plot twist. However, this meant he needed to have Shan silenced, so she wouldn't expose him. That's where I came in. I was perched on the windowsill of the building opposite her. Through the viewfinder, I could see that she was talking to someone. Probably Jim, since she seemed to be addressing her computer. No-one ever got to Jim, and no-one ever would. Though, it seemed like Sherlock might be getting warmer. My phone softly vibrated, and I glanced at the screen.

'Now! Jim x'

Never did understand why he put kisses on the end of his texts to me. He probably did it to everyone. My eyes narrowed on the target, finger curling around the trigger. A smash. A dumbstruck look on the dead woman's face as the bullet pierced her skull. It was done.

As I packed up my gear and prepared to head off, my phone buzzed again. With a sigh, I looked at it a second time.

'Nicely done. Jim x' I shook my head, having to stop myself breaking into a smile, for some reason.

'Thanks. Where are you?'

A few seconds passed. Then another buzz.

'Behind you :) Jim x'

I spun around, glaring at the maniac behind me.

"How long have you been there?" He chuckled.

"Relax, Sebby boy. I only just got here." I sighed heavily. Idiot.

"...Thought I told you not to call me that." I mumbled under my breath. Evidently, he'd heard me. Now that I looked at him, I could see that there was a dangerous glint in Jim's dark eyes, something that made me shiver every time I saw it. I wasn't scared of him. I just...I dunno.

"You don't give me orders, Sebastian." Oh. He very rarely used my full first name. He laughed at my suspicious expression, before winking and turning on his heel like he usually did when he left. I stood there, watching him disappear into the darkness until he was well out of sight and earshot. Letting my back hit the wall, I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor with a soft 'thump'. My head tilted back against the grey wall as I took a deep breath. That man was so bloody infuriating, the way he loved to play around with me, make fun of me. It was as if I were a puppet on strings, and he was my master. I found myself shaking my head, letting out a half hearted, lifeless laugh.

He infuriates me, humiliates me. I should hate him. I have every reason to hate him. I'd hate anyone else who did that. So why not him? Why wouldn't I bring myself to just walk away and wash my hands of him? The answer's simple. You never really get away from Jim Moriarty, not when you were allowed so close to him. Some would say I was lucky. I didn't understand how he'd gotten under my skin, and I still don't. It's not love. Can't be love. I don't do love, and he certainly doesn't. What is it, then? Loyalty? Gratitude for hiring me? Does this feeling even have a word? Or maybe it's just lunacy. 


End file.
